


Smells Like Surrender

by RavenAurelieChoiseau



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Clothed sex (one sided), Clubhouse Sex, Come Eating, Come Marking, Come Sharing, Come Shot, Desire, Kissing, Loneliness, M/M, Masturbation, Masturbation Interruptus, Mutual Desire, Naked Tig Clothed Jax, Oral Sex, Pining, Resolved Sexual Tension, Rough Kissing, Scent Kink, Scents & Smells, Shameless Smut, Smut, Wet Clothing Kink, happiness, light fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:41:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23492626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenAurelieChoiseau/pseuds/RavenAurelieChoiseau
Summary: No one would guess that a defiant desire brews within him, one that Jax Teller has been denying for too long, perhaps. Though senseless and foolhardy, when has sexual attraction ever allowed itself to be guided?Shit, he thinks. I’ve fallen for the one guy in here who can compete with me on serial contrition and empty promises.-Jax gives in to temptation; Tig is more than willing to help him sin.
Relationships: Jax Teller & Tig Trager, Jax Teller/Tig Trager
Comments: 28
Kudos: 69





	Smells Like Surrender

**Author's Note:**

> My only excuse for this fic is my inability to get the image of Tig doing the thing he's going to do to Jax out of my mind- so I had to write it. The only way I exorcise these demons nowadays. :) Enjoy!

Jax stares out the clubhouse window, his eyes two river-tumbled sapphires, moist and unsettled. There’s almost a lethal calmness to his being.   
He hasn’t felt like himself in a while. There’s been a disarming sense of emptiness in him. It doesn’t even have that much to do with the fact that he hasn’t seen intimacy in weeks (well, not exactly. Does the familiar grip of his own fist in a shower count? The water so punishingly hot it feels like a thousand needles shooting out of the head.)  
  
No one would guess that a defiant desire brews within him, one that Jax Teller has been denying for too long, perhaps. Though senseless and foolhardy, when has sexual attraction ever allowed itself to be guided?  
Shit, he thinks. I’ve fallen for the one guy in here who can compete with me on serial contrition and empty promises.  
  
His long-fingered hand wraps primly around the bottle and tips it, the amber liquid within spilling onto his tongue. It lingers there a second, on the rim, and Jax tests the glass ridge with its tip.  
  
“You okay Jax?” Bobby asks from behind a critical squint. His unruly mane, spread thickly over his massive shoulders, wisps over the crow-eater’s hand as she massages him from behind.  
Jax has been acting strangely the past few days. Bobby isn’t sure, but he thinks it might have something to do with a couple anniversaries coming up, making the Prez reflect a little too much on the past.   
Jax’s sandy head swings slowly over to where Bobby’s sitting, almost in slow-motion.   
He looks absent. There’s a tired, listless sag to his mouth.   
“I’m all right, Bobby,” he sighs, uncrossing the feet perched on the rung of the chair in front of him.   
  
The little furrow between his eyebrows collecting all his introspection leaves his secretary dubious.   
“You sure? You’re making me a little nervous, Jax.”   
  
A weight presses onto his chest- the heaviness of a guilty pleasure and a gravitational lure towards his club mate have hooked themselves in quite well. An intolerable itch needs scratching, and Jax has had about enough. There’s nothing else going on tonight, anyway.   
“You seen Tig?” he asks in an indistinct voice.   
  
Wait. There’s a strain to the tone and a glimmer in his expression that lifts the curtain for Bobby. He smirks. So this is what all this is about!  
Jax is swallowing down the words he really wants to say: he’s got a crush on his sergeant.   
What these boys do on their own time is none of his business. All Bobby wants is for Jax to do _something…_ to react somehow, so he stops all the fucking sulking he’s been doing lately. If the answer to that is a romp with Tiggy, shit, he won’t be the one to stop them.   
“Yeah, he’s in one of the rooms in the back, I think. Said he needed a shower,” Bobby adds the last part in for a little “visual” effect of encouragement.   
  
Jax’s breath stalls. So Tig is in one of those rooms… _naked_? The oxygen flees his brain. Dropping his hands onto his knees with a slap, eyes suddenly wide, he gets up from his seat.  
“All right,” he replies through a shallow breath. “I’m gonna go talk to him about something.”   
  
Jax pats Bobby on the shoulder as he ambles by. If he could, he’d run. The yearning so strong it’s threatening to swallow him belly-first.   
Following him with a knowing gaze as he disappears from sight, Bobby shakes his head. “You do that, Jax. Go ‘ _talk’_ to him _._ ”   
_  
  
An ear pressed to the door reveals movement inside, a ruffling of pages and stuttered breathing.   
That’s Tig alright, the aftershave still lingering in the space Jax is occupying proves it.   
  
The knob turns, and even though his last-minute reservations tense every muscle, Jax crosses the threshold and steps inside. Still not announcing his presence, he presses the button behind his back, locking the door with a soft click.   
Tig’s eyes fly open. He swivels in his place on the edge of the bed, a flushed cock wrapped in one hand and an open Playboy trembling in the other.   
  
What Jax sees is like a kick to the stomach. He forgets to breathe for a second.   
Tig is the embodiment of dark, hungry masculinity and Christ if it doesn’t turn his mind over.   
  
“What are you doing?!” he barely manages.   
Jax acts surprised, flitting his gaze away. He can’t let on that this is what _he_ wants to happen. Tig has always loved the chase- and Jax is more than willing to make himself prey tonight. He’s in the mood for a little role-play.   
Tig’s face is a plank of wood, his shock poorly hidden by a drawn-out breath.   
“I was about to jerk off.”  
  
Naturally. This IS Tig we’re talking about. Even 7 pm on a Wed. night is as good a moment as any. Jax would grin if it didn’t give him away.   
“And you need to be completely naked to do that?” he feigns embarrassment by shielding his view with his hand.   
“I like feeling free, man.” What the hell is Jax doing?  
  
“Tig, I’m gonna need you to put on some underwear before you say anything else.”  
Lips thinning, Jax stifles a smirk. Tig stands, his hands perched on his hips, pouty lips curled. His generous member quivers like an arrow in all its glory.  
Jax finds a spot on the floor to focus on.

“Am I making you uncomfortable, Jax?” The question is really more of an invitation.   
“Almost always. Now particularly,” Jax replies.   
He wishes that were the case. This is the hottest thing he’s seen in a long time.   
  
Tig picks up on an electricity in the air. A challenge.   
Jax isn’t fooling anyone. The weird vibe between them lately is more than obvious. Middle school might have ended a lot of years ago, but he damn well remembers the signs of someone being attracted to him- and trying everything in their power to fight against it.   
Tig has thought about this moment for some time. He’ll bite- very enthusiastically.   
  
“Why don’t you stay?” A marvelously unrepentant smirk paints his face. “Give me a hand.”  
  
“Stop it, Tig,” Jax studies him out of the corner of his eye.   
“I’m serious, Jax.” The tone matches the implication.   
“Tiggy…”   
  
Oh, the kid is good. “Come on, Jax. Aren’t you the least bit curious?”  
“About what?” he inquires, pulse skittering.   
“About this- us. I know you’ve thought about it, brother. I can see it in your eyes right now.”   
  
Jax sways from one foot to the other, one hand latched on to his belt. He’s blushing all the way to his toes. It’s definitely not his first time seeing another guy’s dick, soft or hard, but Jesus Christ, this is TIG. It’s definitely provoking the reaction Jax was hoping for.   
Tig’s cock, to make things worse/better, is just like he likes ’em. Jax is afraid to stare at it too long, so he settles on the scuff of his boot.   
  
His heart is pounding hard- Tig’s cutting the distance between them with deliberate steps, his gently curved lips apart.   
“You know you want to look at. Touch it. _Taste it_. Come on, Jackson. Do it.”   
Jesus Christ, he’s just inches from him now. At the mention of “taste” Jax’s dick rouses.

Jax steals another glance at Tig’s junk. “Nice try, old man. I’m not touching that.”  
He isn’t starting to perspire, nope. His dick isn’t half-hard already, nope.  
  
“Oh, Jax. You don’t know what you’re missin’,” Tig quips. He grabs it at the base and gives it a quick stroke.  
If Tig gets any closer, Jax thinks, these boxers aren’t going to hold shit.   
  
Tig scrutinizes him with a dip to his ogle, his eyes two pieces of frosted glass.   
They’re almost there. One more little nudge.   
  
“Come on, Tig, quit fuckin’ around,” Jax’s voice barely above an exhale.  
“If it’s bothering you so much, why you still standing there, Prez?”  
  
Goddamn him.   
The heat in his crotch is only increasing the feverish feel to his skin. Conscious desire courses through Jax as he licks his ruby mouth.   
“You’ve thought about it. I’ve thought about it. I want you, Jax. Have for a while now. And I think you want me. You knew I was in here because you didn’t just barge in accidentally.”  
  
Jax pinches his lower lip between his two fingers. His erection is visible now, even through bulky jeans it pulls on the fabric.   
Jesus, how big is he? Tig wonders when his attention draws there. 

“I’m gonna go, Tig.” He’s not. Not at all.   
“I’d really like you to stay,” Tig murmurs, a hand dropping to mold the shaft in his grasp to marble hardness.   
Jax glances at it obliquely, the blood rushing from his limbs straight to his cock. Tig spots the tiny movement of the muscles at the corner of Jax’s jaw and he smirks.   
“Look at me, Jackson,” he bids as he continues his stroking. 

Jax runs a thumb across his mouth and turns. His rings glimmer in the lamplight.   
Jesus Christ, he’s magnificent, Tig muses.

“Let me take care of that for you, baby,” Tigger cranes his head, gesturing towards Jax’s bulge with a lift of chin. "Isn't that why you came in here? You've been feeling alone... unwanted."

He takes the last couple steps towards him and Jax can't peel his eyes off the enormous cock now staring him in the face.Tig smiles to himself with the most smug expression, it creases the angles of his sea eyes.   
He’s satisfied in himself- he’s won. He’s won because Jax exhales, curled fingers peeling off his own cut. It drops to the floor like his facade.  
  
Jax he tilts his face and palms himself. Now it’s Tig wetting his pink lips. 

“Put your hand on it, Jackson,” he whispers, inching it to him.   
Jax’s chest heaves. He’s staring at the flushed head, dewy with drops of pre-cum.   
“Don’t get shy on me now, baby.”  
  
Jax casts his eyes down. Tig advances, his member touching Jax’s belly. He swats Jax with it above the belt. The moist tip leaves a slight stain on Jax’s white shirt, like a sin defiling a pure soul.   
Just another to add to his collection, no worries.   
He gazes at the spot as if hypnotized, the smile finally stretching Jax’s face.   
  
“Guess you’ll have to take your shirt off now.” Tig gives him his best mischievous grin.

“Guess so…” Jax breathes. His heartbeat thundering in his ears, thoughts dizzying. Tig can sense what’s coming because Jax has that look in his eyes. He’s eyeballing him, like he’s done a thousand times before, but this time with specific purpose. 

By the dint of pure stupid need and visceral desire- the decision he returns is fearless.   
Enough playing around, Jax decides.  
“Let’s do this, Tiggy.”

“Fuck yeah, baby. Fuck yeah.”   
_  
  
Jax lunges, grabs Tig by the neck as he smashes his eager mouth into his. It’s dirty and furious. Their lips test the part and love plays between their tongues.   
Tig sucks on Jax’s, hard, and he moans into him, sending the plea down his fucking throat. Jax laments his clothes, pawing at the hem. They break only a moment, long enough for Tig’s rushed hands to pull off Jax’s shirt and toss it to the ground.

“That’s better,” he pants.   
Jax yanks Tig by the nape, wanting for his sweet mouth again, his black curls sprouting from between long fingers. Their softness is like black rose petals against the pads of his digits, the scent of something deliciously forbidden bleeding from Tig’s pores.   
  
The kiss walks them to the wall, their bodies draped on one another, the sudden searing contact sending bolts of desire through them.   
“Jesus Christ you’re so hot,” his breath tickling Tig’s ear.   
The lust cuts into him. “Fuck, Jax…”   
  
Bare chest to bare chest, huffing as they devour each other, their teeth paint bruises. Jax seeks friction as he bucks his groin into Tig’s stiffness, fumbling to undo his belt and zipper.

“Want ..”   
**smack**   
“you”   
**lick**   
“Tig”…. Jax growls between kisses. 

Tig’s breathing grows ragged, his nose scrunched up against his brother’s, one palm on each side of Jax’s head. It’s a carnal assault on their senses. Jax reaches, seeks something lower…he grazes Tig’s cock, sliding down to envelope the shaft.   
Tig melts into the touch, biting into the tender flesh right below Jax’s ear.

“Jax, Jesus…keep touching me.”  
The heel of his hand drags Tig’s cock, so hot, so much warmer than the rest of him.   
“I want you,” Tig mewls. “Now, Jackson. _Now_.”

  
Nimble fingers lightly shade the erection, a pale beige rod under white cotton. Tig's jaw drops.   
“Oh Jax…fuck. What a cock, baby.”  
  
Jax is delirious. He reaches there, pulling on the band. “Take it out and let’s have some fun.”   
“No, Jax… no,” Tig begs. “Lemme do something. I've... I've thought about this so much. I want you to cum in them. I wanna see the patch of jizz expand _there_.”  
He points to the sheathed crown and Jax grins, mouth puffy and slick.   
  
“There’s no end to the freak with you, Trager. But that’s fucking hot. Tell me what you want me to do, Tiggy,” he breathes.

“Nothin',” says Tig, bending the knee. "Let me."   
Tig lands feathery pecks on Jax’s soft belly...working his way to his sex.   
  
Jax shudders beneath the wet stripes. He grabs the desk behind him for support, legs rubber.   
Then Tig kisses him _there_ , open-mouthed, over the fabric of his boxers. The material soaks in his saliva and the rest of his large length peaks.   
Blood pulsed, he aches for anything Tig wants to do to him.   
  
Jax brackets his head, urgent moans escaping him as he arches up into the contact, wanting more.  
Needing more.   
“Oh fuck, Tiggy…fuck…”  
It's such a fucking torment to feel that hot mouth on him, but the cotton a delicious barrier. 

Tig isn't a monster. He wants to give him a little something, so he pulls down the band enough to release the tip. He tortures Jax by sucking only there with slow and deliberate sweeps, head lightly bobbing.  
Jesus, Jax has never been this turned on. Tig’s right hand works Jax’s dick over his underwear as the left starts to stroke his own bleeding member.

“I’m going to make you cum, Jax, then I wanna cum in your mouth. I want to see your perfect mouth ripe with my spunk.”  
“Jesus Christ, Tig!” Jax grunts, fingers carding through Tig’s hair. That same scent wafts up- it must be Tig’s natural musk. “Keep talking dirty like that and I’ll cum right now.”

Tig giggles. “Can’t. Can’t suck your dick and talk at the same time.”

Tig goes down hard and sloppy. He exagerates the smacking noises, the pressure of his lips tight.  
Jax is falling apart, whimpering and shaking in place, knees quivering like jello.   
The tension in his perfect abs is magnifying. It’s like a burning spiral and he’s about to break. Tig got him so worked up he’s not gonna last.

“Tig…I’m close…” Jax cries- lusty oblivion ablaze behind his lids.   
“Look at me, Jackson” Tig begs, mouth moving down to pucker around the glossy crown.   
  
Tig’s full lips close around the sensitive skin, and he works the slit until he can feel it happen, jets of his essence coursing, pooling on his taste buds.   
“Fuck, Tig… Jesus!”   
Those fucking eyes of his- so ravenous. It’s like the sky meets the ocean where the horizon creases. Those blue eyes are glued to Tig’s the entire time he’s pumping his mouth full of cum.   
  
Tig swishes it around in his mouth, spilling it all back with obscene dribbles onto Jax’s boxers, as promised.   
The sizable splotch keeps expanding, revealing the cast of his twitching cock.

“Fuck Tig, that is so hot. So hot.”   
Creamy slaver stains Tig’s lower lip and some of it has dripped onto his whiskered chin, shiny pearls against his inky growth.

Tig has not stopped stroking himself, and now he’s about to explode.  
"Baby, I need... "  
In a see-saw movement, Tig rises and Jax drops to the floor.   
“Open your mouth for me, baby. Wide.”  
Jax makes half of it disappear with a sensuous glide, before bouncing the glans on the flat of his tongue.   
Tig dissolves.

“I’m cumming, fuck,” he whines… “your mouth is so goddamn perfect, Jackson.”  
Tig rides out the heat, catching Jax’s cheeks and lips, too, when he fountains. 

“Jax, goddamn. If you could see yourself…so amazing baby…so amazing” he groans, head thrown back against the wall with a bam.   
"Oh fuck!"   
Jax blushes, his gleaming white teeth catching the briny essence of Tig’s release.

“Come up here and kiss me,” Tig extends his hand, chest heaving. “I can’t believe we did this, Jax. You don’t know how many times I’ve beat off thinking of doing this very thing to you.”  
“You have some very specific sexual fantasies, Alexander Trager,” he breathes, leaning in for that kiss.   
“You don’t know the half of it, brother,” Tig opens to his urging, tasting himself on him. Lickiing away what he can of his seed from Jax's face.   
  
They’re giddy from orgasm, laughing as they fall back onto the bed. Jax uses the discarded t-shirt to clean off the rest, handing the shirt over to Tig when he's done.  
“You’ve still got some…you know, on your chin,” his finger wags.

Tig chuckles, wipes down. “I had cum on my face, Jackson. Your cum. You can say it.”   
After all they’ve done now he’s timid?

Jax’s color deepens to a sunburn. He doesn’t know why he feels self-conscious suddenly. Maybe it’s because it finally happened and he never thought he’d find himself on a bed with Trager, cum-caked underwear and all. The loneliness he was feeling that much further away now that Tig knows- and reciprocates.   
  
“Yeah, okay, Tiggy. I know. You had _my_ cum on your face.”   
“There you go, baby. You’ll get there,” Tig winks.  
  
“This was fun, Tig,” the words are drenched in happiness. Jax is beaming, the afterglow of orgasm lending him a satisfied air.   
  
“Yeah it was.” Tig studies Jax a second, the way he looks so different from when he first walked in on him. Like all the clouds are gone from his sky and the sunshine has finally poked in.   
This is good. Jax needs it- the levity. After everything they've been through, he deserves some joy.   
  
“Maybe…” Jax’s voice trails off, his tongue poking out from his cheek, pupils dilated with desire.   
“You wanna fuck later, don’t you?” Tig supports himself up on his elbows. “You’re making me so proud, Jax,” he fakes wiping a tear from under his eye.   
  
Jax bursts out into gurgled laughter, holding his stomach. “You know me, Tig, once you get me going…”  
  
Tig realizes he’s still naked- and now he's thirsty.   
“Why don’t I grab some pants, get us a couple beers, and we can start working on that?” he asks as he traces over the smooth skin on Jax's right pectoral.   
  
Jax’s elevator eyes take in his lover’s body, pushing him back on the bed with a possessive twist of his leg over his.   
“Well, if you must. What a shame, though. I mean about the pants. Such a waste to hide your _generous talents_ like that.”

It takes all of Tig's willpower to not hold him down and fuck him right then and there.   
“You know what else is a waste of my talent, Jax? Dying. So let’s plan on doing neither today.” Tig tosses himself back onto the comforter, arms crossed behind his head.

Jax rolls onto his side, adjusting his privates into his damp boxers.   
“You’ve still got your pants on, Jax. If my Prez wants to get me a beer, I’ll show some major gratitude when he returns.”   
  
“Oh yeah,” Jax simpers. “Whatchu got in mind?”  
  
Tig mines his soul with a look that makes Jax forget how to swallow.   
“Oh Jackson, you should know better. That is a very dangerous question to ask someone like me.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it! Hope you're all doing okay, too. xxoo


End file.
